


My Brother's Keeper

by blakefancier



Category: Simon and Simon (TV)
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My very first fanfic ever.</p>
    </blockquote>





	My Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic ever.

This is not how I expected to spend my Friday night. A nice romantic dinner with a woman maybe, but not sitting with Rick on his boat, watching him drown in depression and beer. He just found out that an old buddy of his from Vietnam had committed suicide. So what could I do but sit here and hope to be enough for him.

I have my own nightmares of that time. Fear had consumed me those years as I feared for his death, feared that he would come back unwhole, lost in the horrors of war. But if I close my eyes I can remember his return, the relief I felt.

Mom and I desperately tried to ignore the exhaustion in his eyes, the awkward silences at dinner.

I stared at him all night. My brother was safe and I knew how lucky I was because so many of my friend's relatives hadn't come back.

After dinner he went out back and I went with him, shadowing him like I used to when we were younger. We looked up at the stars and the pain in him became so immense that I could taste it on my tongue. And I knew that if I could take the pain away from him I would. I would hold him, like he used to hold me, when Dad had died.

Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore and I grabbed him by the arm, my pulse pounding in my throat. Rick had always been my hero, larger than life, protecting me from anyone or anything that might hurt me. Couldn't I do the same for him?

He touched my cheek with his fingertips and my breath caught. His eyes were black in the moonlight and I wanted to trace the skin underneath them, and wipe away the sadness. His eyes loomed closer, and the first thing I felt was his moustache tickling my face, then his lips warm and dry. I responded immediately, opening my mouth to taste him, to convince my body that he did exist with me in that moment. He drank me like a man dying of thirst and I knew that I should have stopped him. Mom could have walked in on us at any time, and what would we have said then? But I couldn't, he needed it, and God help, so did I. And despite it all, I was still surprised when a hand began rubbing the front of my jeans.

I moaned into his mouth and grasped him shoulders, pulling him closer as his fingers opened my jeans and drew out my dick.

I broke the kiss, suddenly not getting enough oxygen, and buried my face into his neck. I breathed in the scent of his cologne and the sharp tang of sweat and arousal.

His hand was warm and efficient, pumping and squeezing me as if he had done it a million times. It was over before it even started.

Rick stepped away from me, looking at his hand splattered with come. Then slowly, he ran it over the thigh of his jeans and stared at me, eyes hollow.

I blushed, feeling ridiculous, exposed like I was. I tucked myself back in and zipped up. I started to say his name but he shook his head.

"Go inside. Please, AJ, just go inside the house." His voice was quiet, devoid of any emotion.

There was nothing I could say that would make it better, so I did what he asked. The next day he was gone, running from demons I could never expect to understand.

But he came back, like I knew he would, which is why I'm with him now. Which is why, this time, I kiss him.

His hands are everywhere, in my hair, running over my chest, between my legs. He half-carries, half-drags me into the bedroom, tearing at clothes, his and mine. Before I know it, I'm naked on his bed, my face in his pillows, two of his fingers inside of me.

Rick has always been a magician.

I'm shuddering, moaning his name over and over again. I thrust my hips back, wanting more, begging for more. Please, Rick, please. He pulls his fingers out, and before I can protest, he enters me. I know there should be pain, some effort, but there is none. He would never hurt me.

He kisses the back of my neck, licks the sweat off my shoulder blades, thrusting. I close my eyes, imagine I can feel the rocking of the boat. His skin is hot, burning me with the contact. And now I know what Icarus must have felt, flying toward the sun. He must have known it would kill him. But if it felt like this, how could he care?

Afterward, he holds me against his chest, his fingers stroking along my spine. I want to tell him that it's all right, that I won't let him drown or fade into nothing, but I don't know where to start.

He kisses my temple and smiles at me. "I love you," he says.

I sigh and close my eyes. I suppose that's a beginning in itself. "I love you, too."

I love you, too.


End file.
